One of the only jobs on this earth where a
person is veritably on call 24/7 is the occupation of a shadchan. As such, when a woman starts making shidduchim, she will find herself a nomenclator for landmarks
around the world – landmarks named after her dating couples: some who get
married and some who don’t. Dating singles have these landmarks as well, but
from a different angle, and singles’ parents do as well.
Gate Gershon
Take, for instance, that time at the
airport. Remember when your family decided it was high time to travel during
yeshiva week for a “stressless vacation”? Ah, the naivité of a family that
thinks they can take the “uch” out of “shidduch.” It was precisely that time
when your daughter happened to be dating the tall guy whose car smelled like
clementines, Gershon, that tall guy from Passaic who enjoyed conversations
about cholent. He was a good guy, a nice guy, whom your daughter kept dating
despite not being so sure. You actually missed your family flight while
secluding yourself near a quiet gate (appropriately named Gate Gershon) while
stuck having a prolonged conversation with Shadchan Shaindy. Now every time you fly, walking past Gate Gershon gives you PTSD,
reminding you and your family of cruel and unusual times, clementines, and
cholent.
Bench Baruch
I was sitting on a bench while my family
was at the park on a Sunday afternoon. Of course I was on a bench while
everyone was at the playground having fun because, shadchan on call. Having
just given the news to an incredible girl with high hopes of a promising shidduch into which she was knee deep,
it all ended. Baruch gave a no, out of nowhere…while I was out with my family.
Why do break-up calls always happen for a shadchan
at the worst time?
To be honest,
those phone calls are the worst – although they are for the best. After putting
hours of time into planning, coordinating, discussing, answering inquiries, and
coaching a shidduch through, the
rings and roses amount to broken dreams and tears. You are thrown in as the
main character in the “Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy, ashes,
ashes, we all fall down.” You have two families struck with throbbing inner
pain, and you are smack in the middle. The young woman is beside herself and
wonders if there is anything you can do to push it. Did she do something wrong?
Did he misunderstand?
The young man is
beside himself because he didn’t want to hurt the other side; the last thing he
wants you to do is push it, but she keeps asking if you pushed it. To push or
not to push? That is the question. All this is going on while your son is
asking you to push him on the swings. You sit back listening and crying with
the young woman on the other end. You know she will be a blissful bride to another
young man in no time, but right now she does not see it. Parents on both ends
wait to speak to debrief the situation. Everybody is sad, needing somebody to
talk to, and you’re that somebody because – well, it just makes sense. After
all you are the shadchan. He cries,
she cries, the parents cry, and you cry, too – all on Bench Baruch.
So there I was,
innocently sitting on Bench Baruch after the call, actively promising myself
that this would be my last shidduch
attempt. It’s just not worth it. It’s not
worth the pain and suffering these singles go through time and time again,
Hashem, I’m done. This is what I said to myself 30 seconds before my cell
phone rang. Those who know me know this next detail is also nothing short of a
miracle: I answered my phone!
I return voicemails with voice notes, emails, etc. But this time, I answered.
“Hello? Is this
Mrs. Mond?”
“Yes, who is this
please?”
“Hi, my name is
Chava Steinberg.* You don’t know me. I actually got your name off a list of shadchanim. I decided that whoever would
pick up when I called is the one I’d ask to be the shadchan for this idea I have. I’ve never acted as a shadchan before. The guy, Moshe, is my
neighbor, and the girl, Tova, is my friend. Can you redt it?”
Can I redt it?
I couldn’t be a
liar; I just told Hashem that I was done. Finished. Kaput with making shidduchim.
But this was
so-o-o easy! Literally handing over a shidduch
on a silver platter, so I obliged.
“Sure thing” I said, not understanding
where those words came from or how they escaped my lips.
The shidduch was the most typical
one-and-done in the history of one-and-dones. One-and-dones, you know the
drill. Shadchan makes the calls, both
say yes pretty quickly, a date is scheduled for 6 p.m. Your phone rings at
exactly 8:30 p.m. Caller ID is flashing. It’s only been two-and-a-half hours,
and the girl is calling you first. This is definitely going to be a “no” you
predict; and you are right.
“Great guy” she
begins, “Top notch, good quality, shtark.
I’m looking for more of a….” (Insert here how you know after two-and-a-half
hours that this person cannot possibly be your future husband.) To be honest her reasons made no sense,
but as you will see shortly, that was the plan.
Macaroni-Aisle
Moshe
The call from the guy comes next, when I’m
attempting to focus on erev Shabbos
shopping. I dread this call because it could be that he had the time of his
life. Turns out, b”H, he was parve
about the shidduch, too. Phew! There
I was, standing in the middle of the macaroni aisle listening to Moshe explain
why he was not interested in Tova, politely waving to passers by while I am
apparently blocking five people from reaching the lasagna. Moving towards the
Wacky-Mac, I secretly thank Hashem that this shidduch ended mutually. I proceeded to ask Moshe, whom I had never
heard of before, without trying to sound too cheesy, “So what exactly are you
looking for? Maybe I know someone for you?” I hear myself saying these words
almost routinely while completely forgetting my promise that I was done making shidduchim.
Mouth, why do you
do that?
Moshe talks, I
listen: “…Amazing girl, simchas hachaim,
smart, passionate about Yiddishkeit, family oriented, passionate about kiruv, heart of gold, warm family, under
27.” As he elaborates, a light bulb cracks in my head it’s so bright. This guy
Moshe is absolutely, to the T, perfect for Pnina Streicher,* whom I met exactly
one year ago. He agrees immediately pending a few reference calls. Ignoring all
Shabbos shopping duties, while the ice cream melts in the shopping cart, my
fingers almost automatically dial Pnina to redt
the shidduch. Remind me again why I
was at Seven-Mile? Oh right, Shabbos shopping. Ain’t no one got time for that
when a shidduch is dangling in front
of your eyes.
And so it began:
the process of setting up a great guy whom I’d been called about by an absolute
stranger looking for help setting up a friend – someone who had found a list of
shadchanim and made her own promise
to give the shidduch to the first shadchan who answered the phone.
Miraculously, I answered the phone on Bench Baruch that day. I was now wrapped
up in another nes (miracle) called a shidduch, right after vowing to quit shidduchim altogether.
Two months after redting the shidduch in the macaroni aisle to Moshe, Pnina was engaged to him –
a guy who had never crossed my radar in all the years he had been dating. There
are so many lessons to be learned from this, but I will start with the obvious:
? If you have a shidduch idea, go for
it as
Chava Steinberg did. Even if the shidduch
does not work out, it can lead to one that does.
? Never feel hopeless: Networking is a
domino effect; someone you meet today might not set you up at all and then
think of your shidduch one year
later.
? As a shadchan, if you feel drained,
daven to Hashem: That’s a surefire
way for your phone to ring with your next success story. And last but not least,
? Always suggest shidduch ideas in the macaroni aisle: it’s a
tried-and-true segula.
Seeing the sea split is incredible. But
what’s even more incredible is walking away and watching the tide follow you,
enveloping you into yet another nes.
*a pseudonym
